


Returning Home

by Thestarlitrose



Series: Connecting the Stars [11]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Basically, Family Bonding, Found Family, M/M, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), The Dowlings' A+ Parenting (Good Omens), Warlock is Crowley and Aziraphale's son
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:40:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24147538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thestarlitrose/pseuds/Thestarlitrose
Summary: Warlock Dowling returns to London after graduating.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Warlock Dowling, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley & Warlock Dowling
Series: Connecting the Stars [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1547323
Comments: 6
Kudos: 105





	Returning Home

**Author's Note:**

> This is an almost repost. The original fic is still here but lots has been added to it along with separating Adam and Warlock's first meeting to be an entirely new stand alone fic. There's much more here about Aziraphale and Crowley's relationship with Warlock and how their dynamics work. As I've stated in previous fics in this series, I'm slowing making my way through the originals to bring them up to my current standards and have them fit better within this universe.

Warlock had officially been offered a position as an adjunct professor at the University of London where he’d studied his postgraduate course.

He had been away from London longer than he’d like. Those two years living in the city again had been magical and he’d been loath to leave it.

With the insistence of Nanny and Aziraphale, Warlock returned to the states. They visited often, as did he. It took longer than he'd anticipated but hearing Aziraphale proudly call him "Dr. Dowling," made all his hard work all the more special.

Warlock had studied English literature and archival science during his university career. He would be teaching courses on both, filling in where necessary until he could hopefully receive tenure. He had enjoyed teaching classes in the past, being able to talk openly about his passions, and getting paid for it was his idea of the perfect job.

Everything was in order. He was going home.

Warlock's plane had touched down not long ago. He was waiting for his bags when he overheard them; Aziraphale and Crowley were bickering as they made their way through the busy airport. He smiled broadly and waved to the two men shaped beings walking his way. He was home. Crowley; his dear Nanny, wrenched him into a tight embrace, “My little hellspawn, you've grown out your hair! It suits you.”

“Nanny,” he hugged the man tightly, “I’ve missed you both!” pulling away from Crowley, he winded his arms around Aziraphale. He looked at the two men-shaped-beings and smiled widely once more, “It is so nice to be home.”

Warlock cherished moments like this. He had missed them so much. He'd been so happy to find them again and now here they were. Still by his side, regardless of his lack of supernatural ability. When they’d initially revealed the truth, Warlock had assumed they were joking. When he realized they were being completely serious; he’d experienced a bit of a panic and then, with not much else to do, accepted it.

He'd had questions, many of them. But they were patient with him as always and when it was settled, they took him out for dinner.

They had always been special to him, especially as a child when the world had at times been cruel. Warlock was well aware of his less than stellar upbringing where his parents were concerned; Nanny and Mr. Francis had raised him until they left. There were few fond memories of his childhood where his parents were concerned. But with them? Each day had been special.

He hadn’t seen them since his graduation back in May. His father and mother had refused his invitation, too busy with whatever it was they were doing to come to see him graduate. They instead sent a card Warlock was nearly certain had been sent by his Father's assistant and a check. It was impersonal and left him hurt.

Crowley and Aziraphale, however, had come with flowers and a camera and had gushed over him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been required to pose so many times for pictures. It made him feel warm inside. Loved. Wanted and cared for in a way his parents never had.

Warlock knew they had mistaken him for the antichrist as a child but they'd never compared the two. They never made him feel less important because he wasn't who they'd expected. If anything, the times they’d spoken about the whole incident, he gathered they felt relieved he’d been kept safely away from the mess.

He knew they saw Adam now and again. Warlock couldn't help but feel relieved. It may have been a mistake, but he shuddered to think what would have happened to the world if he'd had the power to end it all during his miserable teenage years. Adam had the power to alter reality itself and instead had chosen to keep the world the same. Well, except for fixing Aziraphale and resetting things that had been damaged in the week leading up to Armageddon.

He’d been curious to meet the other man, but Adam had gone off to study as soon as he had the chance and had been traveling constantly since. Warlock hoped eventually their paths would cross. He knew that Adam dropped in a few times on Crowley and Aziraphale in the past and that they spoke frequently.

The trio walked out to a vintage Bentley parked haphazardly in a no-parking zone.

“I’ve always loved this car.” Said Warlock as he slid into the backseat behind Aziraphale. “Although, it’s difficult to imagine you putting a car seat in here.”

“You know, Adam was placed in a basket back there. You should consider yourself lucky. Besides, you were much better behaved when you were in here.”

Warlock laughed. “A basket?”

“Eh. S'what he came in, innit? He was fine. A bit red but that’s a baby thing. I think.”

“Better behaved than the antichrist doesn’t make me sound all that spectacular, Nanny.”

“You were a good kid. Wasn’t he Angel?”

This earned a laugh from the blond, “He was but I do recall the time he expelled the contents of his stomach all over the seats. You were six I believe?”

“When was this?” asked Warlock curiously.

Crowley glanced at Aziraphale, “one of our visits to the park?”

“It was. You allowed him to eat two ice creams and then proceeded to drive like—well, a demon. His poor belly couldn’t handle it. The next thing I know, I have vomit splattered on my hair and young Warlock was crying.” He glanced into the backseat. “Warlock, I thought Crowley was going to go ballistic— this car is his pride and joy. But he didn’t get cross at all. Instead, he soothed you and cleaned the mess. I believe it is an excellent example of why I was the gardener and not the nanny.”

Crowley snorted. “No offense, Angel but you are terrible with babies.”

Aziraphale swayed his head in amusement.

“I never thought I’d get the smell out of here. It took four good miracles and at least one threat to get it out.”

“I don’t recall that,” Warlock paused, creasing his eyebrows together, “I remember feeding the ducks and getting ice cream. We did that all the time—but not puking my guts out.” Said, Warlock.

Aziraphale beamed, “it was a nice day.” He thought back to that warm September day, it was one of the rare occasions they allowed themselves to be seen together before the failed apocalypse, they had been mistaken for a family by a mother and her young child. It had made his heart flutter to overhear the words in his heart spoken aloud. [i]

When they arrived at the shop, Warlock carried his belongings up to the apartments above the shop. The majority of his belongings were being shipped in a month; for now, he planned to stay with Aziraphale and Crowley until he found a suitable flat. Bilbo had traveled back with them when they’d been in the states last and he was more than ready to curl up beside the cat and take a long nap.

His room was enormous. Larger he suspected than should be possible. It wasn’t the first time he’d stayed in the room; it had become his for holidays and other visits. A few nights when he was too tired to leave after pouring over one of Aziraphale’s many books. It was pale blue and reminded him in many ways of his childhood bedroom.

Warlock spent the afternoon dozing off and reading in his favorite nook in the shop with Bilbo lazing in his lap. Aziraphale had brought him cocoa and even Nanny had come to sit with him for a while. They were going out for dinner, likely somewhere new and trendy if Aziraphale got his way.

By the time dinner rolled around, he’d been happily rested and more than ready to eat. His sense of time was still screwed up but from experience; it would likely take him a few days to adjust.

He was correct in assuming they would visit a trendy restaurant. Between the food and the drinks, the night had passed quickly. During the meal, Nanny had gotten the idea to visit the cottage in South Downs—a purchase made shortly after the failed apocalypse.

“But really, Warlock, when was the last time you had a holiday? It’s no trouble and you know as well as I do you need some sun.”

“—Well, it does sound pleasant and it wouldn’t hurt to get away for a few days.” Warlock chewed thoughtfully for a moment, “but I really need to look for a flat.”

Crowley glanced at Aziraphale and the angel rolled his eyes. “I don’t believe you’ll have much trouble in finding one, dear.”

“So, you’ll look tomorrow, and then we’ll leave the day after next?”

Warlock shook his head in amusement. “I’ll have to buy a new set of trunks.” It would be good for him, a nice break from the outside world. The sandy beach was already calling his name. Perhaps he could hide a few of Aziraphale’s novels to read while away. Yes, a vacation sounded perfect.

The next two days passed quickly. He met with several apartment managers to view a few places. Three flats in and he found the ideal spot. The view was gorgeous and it was incredibly spacious. Warlock felt certain that Aziraphale had interfered somehow but he couldn’t hold it against them. What was the point in having celestial godfathers if they couldn’t occasionally tip things in your favor? The price was good, and it seemed to be the perfect location between work and the shop. It was a win-win. He’d still needed to find furniture but if the past was anything to go on, he’d likely have to deal with his godparents arguing over the furniture they pulled from the ether once they returned from the coast.

When they arrived at the little cottage Warlock had gone for a walk to stretch his legs while Crowley and Aziraphale settled inside. It looked small from the outside but inside? It was roomy and felt like home.

It always amazed him how regardless of where they were, as long as he was with Crowley and Aziraphale, it felt like home. He supposed that was what family should feel like.

The cottage itself stood close to the water, the coastline was in walking distance and was secluded enough that Crowley often sunbathed in his serpentine form or with his wings stretched out in the sun. Nobody ever bothered them and he suspected that it was due to divine interference.

Rosebushes crept up the sides of the cottage—a pale blue thing with a thatched roof and a black iron fence that ran around the bulk of the property. In the back, fruit trees of all kinds blossomed regardless of the soil and there seemed to always be one berry or another ready for harvest in the summer months. It was the kind of place he wished he’d grown up in. He even had his own bedroom, similar in design to the one at the shop but smaller. Cozier.

The trip to South Downs had already done wonders for Warlock, the salty air and breeze made him feel more like himself than he had in some time.

Being back in the states had been tough.  _ Dowling _ was a well-known last name; especially when his father had been involved with some of the more infamous political scandals of the last few years involving his mistress, an illegitimate child, and the subsequent payoff that had become sensationalized and broadcast on every major news outlet in the states. He’d been harassed by reporters and colleagues alike who were curious about what his father had been up to. The truth was, he had little to no contact with his parents and planned to keep it that way. He’d finally put them behind him; besides, it wasn’t as if he didn’t have parents. Nanny and Aziraphale were more like his family than the Dowling’s had ever been.

Warlock felt as if his world was finally back on track.

“Warlock, we’re gonna go get dinner. Are you coming?” Crowley yelled from somewhere near the cottage.

Warlock had been standing in the same spot for longer than he’d planned. His train of thought interrupted he turned to walk up the winding path back to the cottage. 

It was late at night; the sun had set hours ago and Warlock found himself restless. He’d taken a blanket with him down to the beach to sit. So much had changed and Warlock found himself unable to keep up with it. He was excited to start his job—he was, but he couldn’t help but feel as if he were missing something. He loved Aziraphale and Nanny. Dearly he did, but he couldn’t help but feel lonely.

He often wondered why he wasn’t enough for his own parents. He knew that his half-sister; Caroline, visited his parents often enough. His mother had accepted the product of his father’s discrepancies and all but spoiled the child. She did things with Caroline she’d never thought to do with himself. It hurt. Badly. Warlock likely would never know her. He’d met the child once as a baby during the Christmas holiday. He hated it. There was no nanny on hand to keep her quiet. To rush her off once they were finished with photo ops or brunch.

But Crowley and Aziraphale did love him. He knew they did. Which was why it hurt so much to still wish his relationship with the Dowling’s was better. The Dowling’s had let him down so many times but Crowley and Aziraphale never had.

His thoughts turned towards his failed relationships. He’d long been jaded by the way his parent’s marriage had gone. He’d tried to date, of course, it hadn’t all gone terribly either. He’d met a woman in uni he’d been certain he’d marry but they broke up shortly before his first move to England. Then there had been Thomas, a nice enough fellow but Warlock had never felt any love for the man. He’d tried but they were just too different.

Perhaps he was just trying too hard to find something like Aziraphale and Crowley had. They’d known one another as long as the Earth had been around, pulled towards one another in some ineffable way as Aziraphale had once told him.

The crunch of pebbles and sand alerted him to someone walking down the lane. Warlock sat up and turned around. Aziraphale was walking towards him, carrying two mugs in his hands.

“I was talking with Adam when I heard you sneak out. Thought you might like something warm. It gets a bit chilly out here when the sun goes down.”

The angel sat down beside him and handed him a mug of cocoa just the way he liked it. “Thank you, Aziraphale.”

“Your thoughts were so loud I could hear them in the house. Would you like to talk about it?”

Warlock shook his head. “No—I’m just glad you’re here.”

Aziraphale hummed as he took a sip. “You’re going to be exhausted tomorrow, dear.”

“I know. I did try, I just couldn’t fall asleep.”

“I never got the hang of it myself. Adam said hello. I told him you were staying with us while you settled in London. He’s nearly finished with his research, he called to ask if I’d send him a few books and of course I agreed. He’s living near Jerusalem now, likely to move soon once he’s finished there. He did say he was considering moving to London when he finished.”

Warlock grinned, “I’d like to meet him someday. I did impersonate him for eleven years.”

Aziraphale chuckled. “We’ll have to arrange for it sometime. I do think you’d both get on quite well.”

“Aziraphale?”

“hm?”

“Thank you. For the company and—everything else.”

He gave warlock a squeeze, “it’s no trouble at all, It's what you do for people you love.”

Warlock nodded, a thankful smile resting on his lips. 

Their little vacation from London passed quicker than anyone had wanted. When the trio returned, Warlock moved into his new flat—new furniture and all. He purchased a car, sensible and petrol friendly. He made friends and even went on a few dates as he began to settle into his new life. 

[i] Angels, as a rule, didn’t have children, but he certainly considered Warlock a son, or at least the closest thing he’d have to one. He knew Crowley did as well. Warlock had always been a good boy, and he was so thankful for him to be back in London. He had missed him dearly.


End file.
